


Salty Taste

by ahin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crying Iwa-chan, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, oikawa taking care of iwa-chan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahin/pseuds/ahin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have lost. He has failed. </p>
<p>Oikawa comforting Iwa-chan. Set after Seijou loses against Karasuno.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salty Taste

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little birthday gift. Basically just fluff. 
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH!! ♥♥♥  
> I'm very happy we grew closer in Japan and that we get along so well, I always have lots of fun with you. Thanks for always listening to my rambling and being the great person that you are!  
> (oops da war ich bisschen schmalzig ww) 大好きー！

The final whistle of the match echoes in the hall, and Iwaizumi feels a cold numbness take hold of his body. It is over. They have lost. _He has failed._

The weight of his own body crashes over him, so suddenly and acutely he has trouble breathing. He tells himself he’ll be strong, _has_ to be strong. He’s the Ace and he will not break down, not on the court nor anywhere else.

 

He bites his teeth throughout the coach’s speech, the words barely registering. “Results are results.” He _knows_ that, knows they can’t always win.  


“You fought well,” the coach tells them, but those words aren’t the reason his tears spill over. He keeps seeing the match like scenes from a movie in his mind, focusing on all his mistakes, the plays he could have done better. Should have done better.

 

_Not being able to make that... what kind of Ace am I?!_

  
He feels the wet heat of the tears running down his cheeks, the pain of his teeth biting into his lower lip.

 

Oikawa’s clap on his back makes Iwaizumi jerk out of his thoughts. More claps follow, and all he can do is wipe the tears and say his _thank you_ ’s to the audience that came to cheer them on and watched them lose. He picks up his things and goes into the dressing room.

 

Inside the dressing room Kindaichi is sitting on the bench crying, and Hanamaki is furiously wiping his own tears away with Matsukawa standing next to him. Iwaizumi doesn’t want to stay here, wants to go, not even sure where, but _away_. His whole body feels hypersensitive, as if his insides are trying to break out of his skin. He feels like throwing up.

 

“Alright, everyone pack their things and get on the bus.” Oikawa’s voice is loud and clear in the room, and his words bring order to Iwaizumi’s thoughts. He just has to get his things and get on the bus. Iwaizumi tries to reach for his towel, but his arm refuses to move properly. His whole body feels frozen and unable to move, as if he had used up all of his body’s energy during the match. And isn’t that ridiculous, given that he wasn’t even able to be a proper Ace.

 

Suddenly Oikawa is standing next to him, trying to catch his eyes. Iwaizumi denies him. He doesn’t want to look into Oikawa’s eyes, not so shortly after he failed him like this.

Kyoutani is the last in the dressing room, looking at them standing next to each other without talking. He picks up his bag and leaves for the bus, closing the door of the dressing room behind him.

 

“Hey, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says in his sing-song voice. Iwaizumi keeps looking away.

“I~wa~cha~n!” Oikawa says again, stepping close to him, right into his personal space. “Iwa-chan, look at me,” he tries this time, voice gentle and soft. Iwaizumi doesn’t want his gentleness, knows he’ll crumble under it and tell Oikawa everything that is on his mind.

  
“Hajime, _please_ ,” he almost whispers, and Iwaizumi can’t fight his body’s reaction to hearing Oikawa use his first name in that tone of voice. Iwaizumi lifts his head, and Oikawa looks into his eyes for a long moment before a small, soft smile forms on his lips. “You were great.”

 

It’s too much. Iwaizumi feels his throat constricting and his face crumbling, the heavy tears running down his face unhindered. “ _No!_ ” He wants to shout, but whispers instead. Oikawa wraps his arms around him, instantly and securely, pulling his quivering form into his body. His lips find Iwaizumi’s ear, his forehead, his cheeks, leaving feathery but firm kisses.

 

“You were wonderful, Iwa-chan. When I needed you to jump, you jumped, when I needed you to crash the ball through their blocks you did just that. You were---”

“No!” This time he does shout. “I _failed_. At the most important time, I failed. What kind of Ace fails when he has to decide the match for his team?!”

 

His body is quaking violently, his heart and lungs feeling as if they might burst any second, pushing out sob after sob. He feels too hot, his head just a big, throbbing heap. Are his legs even supporting him right now?

 

Suddenly, Oikawa has both hands on Iwaizumi’s cheeks, cradling his head between them.

“You’re a _moron_ , Hajime. What kind of Ace? The best Ace, _my_ Ace. The Ace of Aoba Johsai and Oikawa Tooru. No matter what happens, you’re my Ace. You didn’t fail. You made sure we could fight against them with all our power. We might have _lost_ , but we didn’t fail.”

 

Iwaizumi wants to stop crying, wants to tell him _yes_ , that he’s Oikawa’s, his Ace, but his body isn’t listening to him. He clings to Oikawa and hopes he understands.

Oikawa’s fingers that had started to stroke his cheeks slide behind his head, gently massaging his scalp. It eases the throbbing of his head.

 

“Really, Iwa-chan, you’re looking like such a mess right now,” he tells him, going for a teasing tone but it comes out tender and affectionate. Oikawa leans in to kiss him.

 

Iwaizumi can’t help the way he leans forward into the kiss, too eager to have Oikawa make him forget and make him feel something else than this horrible mix of anger and bone-deep sadness. He feels himself getting pushed backwards until his back meets the wall, Oikawa pressing his whole body into him. It feels good, so good, to let himself drown in Oikawa. His sobs are being swallowed by Oikawa, his tongue nudging his own relentlessly. Oikawa is murmuring things into his mouth, “it’s okay, I’m here” over and over again. His body is still shaking, but he feels as if Oikawa’s body is pushing the shudders back. Iwaizumi tightens his arms around his back and pulls him in.

 

“You taste so salty, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers after a few minutes. Their noses are almost touching and all Iwaizumi can see is the hazel of Oikawa’s eyes.

 

“Shut up,” he mutters, no real bite behind it. His voice is hoarse and rough, body still wobbling. The sobbing has stopped, but he feels as if it has robbed his body of a year’s worth of energy. Oikawa is still cradling his head in his hands, and Iwaizumi can’t help but think about how strong these hands are.

 

On an impulse, he leans forward and catches Oikawa’s lips. Oikawa stays still for a moment, a contented sigh escaping him before he returns the kiss. He breaks the kiss, sliding his mouth down to Iwaizumi’s neck where he nips at the sensitive skin. Iwaizumi feels his nerves electrifying, his eyes closing and head falling to the side. Oikawa’s body is warm and solid, a comfort to his own that feels almost eggshell-like fragile.

 

Kissing his neck a last time, Oikawa straightens up again. He looks into Iwaizumi’s eyes and says, “Let’s go home, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi nods, pushing away from the wall.

 

Oikawa takes their bags with one hand, and grabs Iwaizumi’s hand with the other, grip strong and unwavering. Iwaizumi squeezes back, and with his free hand takes his own bag out of Oikawa’s. When Oikawa looks at him in surprise, he pulls him towards the door.

 

“Come on, dumbass,” he says, voice rough but steady.


End file.
